


Crying Lightning.

by SleepingInTheGardn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arctic Monkeys - Freeform, But he's a king, I swear they're my boys and I really want them to be happy but, M/M, Oikawa is such a dick, Toxic Relationship, Way Too Many Tags, also kuroo being a bottom, i honestly have a problem with OiKuro, please, ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingInTheGardn/pseuds/SleepingInTheGardn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Kuroo Tetsurou steals Oikawa Tooru's crown after some meetings in a public bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crying Lightning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! I took my otp aka OiKuro and also my favorite song, Crying Lightning by Arctic Monkeys (the acoustic version) and wrote this oneshot. I apologize because it probably has a thousand mistakes but since I did this to essay my english writing skills I don't really care too much. Hope you enjoy and feel welcome to give me your opinion about it!

Kuroo entered by the pub’s door he used to frequent almost every night. The pub was at the end of the street which it made it ideal to read a book, make some work or drink some beers after a long day.

The owners of the bar were almost family and the customers’ faces were as familiar as the opening song of the newscast. Specially one. Kuroo didn’t know his name or anything farther than his brown hair, except that every night was there with a different date as if they were mere pick and mix. Even so, the blackhaired didn’t have the least interest in that fellow.

That day, he had met with Bokuto and Akaashi to have a few drinks. The night was pleasant, there were all laughs, anecdotes of the follies of some years ago.

Once in a while furtive glances escaped and went to the boy who had found a new pick and mix, and he had already begun with the warm-up; laughing, flirting and a pretty face could achieve many things, apparently no one could resist it.

By the Bokuto’s fourth beer, the brown haired boy was already on the top of his date, he knew exactly what he wanted and how to reach it, he had been doing it since a countless sucession of days. What Kuroo wasn’t expecting was that he looked up from his prey to direct it to him. They held each other’s gaze for several seconds in which everything seemed go slower.

Suddenly, the boy outlined a sly smirk and he launched fiercely over the mouth of the chosen of the day. Kuroo drank the rest of his drink from one shot.

Bokuto got drunk too fast, as usual, and Akaashi had to call a taxi for both. In the time they waited for the taxi, the brown haired went out. Kuroo learnt another thing that day about him, the pick and mix’s boy smoked.  
He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, expelling smoke in an elegant way that could be worthy of an 80’s movie. When he realized that Kuroo was looking at him, unvarnished, he examined him with a glance and offered him a cigarette. He didn’t even talk. Kuroo in that moments couldn’t distinguish if he was offering a new, or the one he had between his lips, yet he rejected it. The boy shrugged with remarkable undisguised annoyance and returned inside the pub. When the taxi arrived, Kuroo went home.

The following days went as usual but with little variations; the glances.

They became more and more frequent. But this time were different, they weren’t hidden or out of sheer curiosity but rather sought by both and held as a kind of habit, a game, that had begun to become more entertaining and each time going farther.

The situation was intensified when the glances weren’t enough. It was clear to Kuroo when the boy got up and kissed him before he even tried to react. He had wondered so many times if the fierceness that appeared that kisses would be real. The answer didn't disappoint him.

Kuroo had just entered the game and the other boy had barely settled when Bokuto entered by the door, gasping, with his hands resting on the knees. The friends exchanged glances. The brown haired boy understand, and he respected Kuroo’s natural space again. He barely had walked two steps with his typical stance of supremacy when he turned and Kuroo listened his voice for first time.

“We haven’t finished,” he said with a smirk and then he left, before Kuroo could answer.

Bokuto raised his eyebrows with a questioning grin and Kuroo only shrugged.

“But bro, that guy is-… Wait, come with me, I have to show you something!”, Bokuto cried, excited, and then grabbed his arm and took him out of the bar.

Kuroo’s drink was still on the table. He barely touched it, and didn’t pay for it either. The brown haired took care of both things.

A week later, when Kuroo was working with his computer in some boring project for university, when Oikawa Tooru —it didn’t take too time in the internet to find out his instagram— stood in front of him, just as he promised. Then he practically dragged Kuroo to the toilets.

“You owe me a beer… and something else,” murmured Oikawa before corner him against the wall and kissed him again, even hungrier.

“I thought you would buy me flowers when you ask me to,” said Kuroo between gasps and a smirk, when Oikawa allowed him.

“Better luck the next time.”

Next. Kuroo would have liked to ask about that, or at least, clear some things to Oikawa, but when he opened his mouth to complain, a moan escaped instead. It was already begun. The boy’s hands were everywhere on his body, touching him in the most sensitive spots like if weren't the first time with Kuroo. It seemed like Oikawa had no intention of giving him a respite, so Kuroo took his lips to Oikawa’s neck, licking and biting with the only intentions of leaving marks.

And the rest is counted by itself. So none of them could advance were the following random meetings that were about to change it everything.

They were entering in an infinite loop without exit, the worst was that none of them would realize until it were too late.

The rules of the game were such as simple as tough:

#1: the one who gets to flirt more in one night, wins, or being realistic, the one who gets to turn on the other in first place.

#2: the winner tops —Oikawa always won—.

That was all.

He loved that game.

Kuroo had to bear a lot of provocations from Oikawa, but once he got the drift and both were in the same terms, the game turned really interesting; he had got the flirt skins from the best, so it was very easy to him choose a pretty face and hooked up with the guy. He used to stop soon enough to not end up having sex, Oikawa didn’t stop though.

Everything was about a provocation game, it had no sense if the other wasn't there to see it. It was like to kick a box when you're angry; it had no sense to kick an object if there was no one watching.

And the reward was worth it enough.

The history repeated itself over and over again, like that favorite song that you never get tired of. It was a tablecloth someone retired from a pull under a newly served feast, a chaos of contact in minutes of confusion. Fingers tangled in hair, hands caressing napes, bodies in dangerously proximity hands caressing napes, lips rubbing necks, bodies in dangerous proximity…

**But no king lasts forever.**

* * *

 

Oikawa had a bad day, the only thing he wanted to do was go to his favorite bar and play with his favorite toy. How big was his surprise when he opened the door and found Kuroo on the top of some tall and blonde boy. In fact, Oikawa would swear that he had been in the same place some time ago.

To be noticed, he closed the door with a bang and sat up on a sofá with an unblinking gaze watching the scene. He was upset, he was a lot more than upset. Oikawa would have dragged that asshole to the bathroom and taught him some manners.

He didn’t do it. Yet.

Oikawa occupied the sofa with folded arms like toothache, stood and puffed his chest like he never loses a war and he left with another door's bang noisier than the previous.

At the end, Oikawa knew that he was approaching his throne. And Kuroo knew it too.

The next time that Kuroo caught his own reflection it was on its way to meet Oikawa. Kuroo had been avoiding him for several days, constantly looking for excuses to postpone. And though he tried so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction for his last contempt, there was no cracks to grasp or gasp to claw.

He arrived the pub and immediately, Kuroo felt his inquisitive look above him. With mistrust, he sat next to Oikawa, who didn’t look at him again, like he were no one.

“You came back… I though you had found a better amusement than me,” said Oikawa. There were a quiet violence on his voice, like a predator hunting his prey. He took a drink of his beer, still not looking at Kuroo.

“I’ve…, you know…, been busy,” hesitated Kuroo, rubbing his nape, unconvinced of his own words.

“Oh, so now we lie each other?” Oikawa laughed, haughty. Then he crossed his legs. “If you’re so busy you can go from where you came.”

Kuroo made a grin, “Oh, c’mon… I already told you I’m sorry.”

“ _Actually_ , you haven’t.” Kuroo didn’t need to apologize for Oikawa knew that he was sorry. But his pride had been hurt, so he wouldn’t stop until Kuroo were on his knees begging for his forgiveness.

Kuroo sighed.

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or something,” he ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, “what else do you want?”

Oikawa finally look at him. He had a big leer on the face and then he licked his bottom lip. Of course that Kuroo knew what he wanted. Soon, Oikawa was above Kuroo, touching and doing all he wanted.

The final conclusion was that the bathroom's walls should be soundproofed. Oikawa wasn’t kidding when he decided to take the justice by its own hands, in that tiny area there had been a war with a final conqueror. Kuroo's body had all kinds of war marks as proof of it; from bites and hickeys until scratches and bruises, besides the shooting pain in specific spots.

He hated that damn game.

* * *

 

Little by little, Kuroo gradually became aware of reality, even though Oikawa tried to coax him to keep on the game. It was too late, everything had returned to normal but Kuroo already knew all Oikawa’s tricks by that time, and he was tired. And he hated him because of that, because of everything, for make him need him. And also like him. He needed it him like a junkie needed his daily dose.

He knew how tempting Oikawa could be, but not half impossible as everyone assume he was.

Finally, while Kuroo listened Oikawa to talk about stories of the jerks who had been in his position before him, he exploded. Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore, but he also though he couldn’t live without him. Even so, he got up and yelled at him, everything he was thinking about his fucking games and keep yelling until everyone in the pub were looking at him.

Oikawa remained sitting, and after some silence, he sketched an arrogant smile. He knew that this would happen one day, he knew since the momento he put his gaze on him. Kuroo apparently wasn’t the only one who had entered a maze without exit.

“Be clear, what are you saying?” he was smart enough to be aware of the danger and though he knew it was too late, Kuroo was still his favorite pick and mix.

Kuroo was surprised. There was no tantrum, no tears, no screams, which probably made it worse. He swallowed, “It’s over:”

Silence. More silence. And yet more silence.

Their glances vied like the first time. Oikawa sighed; Kuroo bit his bottom lip. This time was Kuroo the one who caught Oikawa’s shirt and dragged him to the bathroom. This time, _he_ had the rudder, and only _he_ was going to sail the ship for the last time.

Well, they might not be the perfect partners but that night, they made a pair.


End file.
